A Mask Of Cold
by You-Just-Might
Summary: A series of one shots. Zammie! T for dark themes and (possible) language.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So I am back. This is (hopefully) going to be a collection of ****one shots****. They will all be with the characters as spies, but they will not relate to each other unless I tell you otherwise. I may sometimes write a story that goes on for more than one chapter, but I think that will be a pretty rare occurrence. Some of the one shots will be happy, some will be sad, and some will be a mixture of both. They will most likely be Zammie for the majority of the stories. Now, I have said that this will hopefully be a collection of one shots. That is because I will only write more if you guys like this story, or the idea of the one shots in general. Please review to let me know what you think. At the end of this, I will give you some of the information for my updating schedule. So have fun, enjoy the story, and don't forget to review.**

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."

-J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Two Towers_

* * *

The ash falls lightly over the ruins, coating the bodies at my feet in a soft blanket of white that looks like snow. I shake some from my hair as I take in the scene. I want to cry. However, because I am a spy, I push back the urge with malice.

I kneel beside a body. It is small and coated in white. I send a quick thanks to whomever it is that orchestrates this cruel puppet show we call life when I notice the ash coating his body hides the wound that killed him from my sight. I know the child I am looking at. His name is—was Thomas. He just turned six last Friday. I guess that doesn't matter now, but at the time he was so excited.

I had been in the village for a few weeks when Thomas knocked on my door. His face was bright with excitement, even though the man who ran the inn I was staying at was red faced and yelling at him about how he 'mustn't disturb the American guest'. After I communicated to the inn keeper that Thomas was a friend of mine and that it was fine, he wasn't disturbing me, I invited Thomas into my room. Thomas came in and flopped down in front of my fire, which was perpetually burning in its alcove.

"My birthday is in two days," Thomas informed me.

"Really?" I replied. "How old will you be turning?"

"Six," he answered me, holding up six fingers in case I hadn't understood.

"Do you have any plans to celebrate?"

"Mama says that I can have a big dinner with my friends and our neighbours," Thomas told me. "Will you come?"

I grinned at him. "Of course I will, buddy," I said, still grinning.

I pull myself out of the memory and close my eyes. At Thomas's birthday party, he was so happy—so alive. His mother had pulled out all of the stops. They didn't have much, but she was determined to make his birthday special. We ate a feast of lamb and carrots, potatoes and legumes. There was fish and Blini. Finally there was a cake. There were no gifts to be given, no brightly colored birthday cards, but there was dancing and laughter and family. I helped Thomas's mother cook dinner, and it took the majority of the day. Thomas sat on a stool and chattered away happily as he watched us cook. At the end of the night, once it was dark and the guests were tired as they headed for home, Thomas came up to me and threw his arms around my waist.

"Thank-you for coming," he whispered to me.

My arms tightened around his little body and I smiled so widely I felt like my face would split. "You're welcome, Thomas," I told him. I pulled back from him and then knelt so that my eyes were level with his. "Happy birthday," I said before heading out the door.

I shake my head as I stare at his broken body, lying still on the ground. Zach and I have talked about having children before. We've always decided against it because of what we do for a living, but it is at times like that that I wish our lifestyle were more kid friendly. _Maybe one day_, I thought to myself when Thomas hugged me that night. Now I know that the day Zach and I will have children will not be anytime soon. Possibly that day won't ever come.

I reach out and gently brush his hair back from Thomas's pale face. He wanted to be a doctor. His mother had him when she was very young, but she was in night school four days a week to be a nurse. In order to go to school, she had to commute into the city. Thomas told anybody that would listen how he would be a doctor so that he could be in charge of her for a change. His mother, Mary, was an informant of mine. I clap a hand over my mouth, hoping to keep the grief inside: Mary being my informant is probably what got this village burnt to the ground.

I have a sudden yearning for home. I haven't been there in eight months. I want to feel Zach's arms around me; I want his lips to whisper reassurances in my ear, to comfort me. I want him to be beside me when I wake up screaming from nightmares that still haven't gone away. I want to hear his laugh, see his smirk. I know that I can't though. Not until this mission is finished. It's hard though. It's so hard. I don't even know if he's okay, or where he is in the world. I haven't had contact with anybody except the Director since my mission started and he won't give me any information about anything other than the mission.

I force myself to turn away from Thomas's body. I remove my gun from its holster and move through the ashes, clearing the area and looking for signs of life. There are none, and there is no sign of whoever it is that did this either. All of the bodies are congregated in one area though: The city centre. Whoever set the fire must have herded everybody there before lighting the fire. I can smell gasoline in the air. That must be how they got the fire to burn for as long as it did.

I sit on the charred remains of somebodies wood burning stove. The bricks are black instead of their regular red, but I decide that it doesn't matter much. I'm wearing black anyways. A sudden image of Macey's expression at that thought pops into my mind. I find myself laughing, even though nothing about this situation is funny.

I guess it's either laugh or cry, though.

I watched as the village burned today. I stood on a ridge invisible to anybody who doesn't know of its existence. I had been out running recon all morning and most of the night. When I got back, the village was already on fire. I couldn't do anything to stop it. Instead I listened to the pained cries of those burning in the square. I heard their fear, their grief, and their anguish. And I did nothing. I let Thomas, and Mary, and the innkeeper, and the man who ran the school, and the woman who owned the bakery, and the old man and his wife who cared for the church ground die. I let them all die while I stood by and did nothing.

"Cammie?" my comms unit crackles to life and a panicked male voice cuts through my grief and self-hatred. "Cammie, baby, if you can hear me please say something," the voice cuts off and I don't respond. "Cammie?"

My throat seizes and I stare at the nothingness around me, suddenly exhausted. "I'm here," I tell Zach.

"Thank God," he says, relief palpable in his voice. "Cammie… are you all right?"

"Yeah," I tell him, trying to make myself believe it. "Yeah, I'm fine." It suddenly strikes me that it is Zach talking, not the Director. "Zach, why are you on my comms unit? The director is the only one I'm allowed to have contact with."

"I know. Believe me, I know. The Director showed up at our house early today though. He told me that the village you were staying in had been destroyed. He said that nobody knew where you were. Cammie, he told me that you were MIA—in the wind. I made him let me try to contact you. I've been trying for hours. Liz has been helping me, but we haven't been able to get a hold of you until now."

I nod. "I tried to update the Director early last night when I was out on recon, but I didn't have a connection. I was out of satellite range, high in the mountains," I tell Zach.

"Cammie, I thought you were dead," he tells me, his voice cracking.

"I'm not though," I say forcefully. "I'm fine. I'm alive. Nobody else is though, at least not anybody here. Everybody in the village is dead."

"I know. The Director wants to pull you out."

I sit up straight, muscles bunching in the same way they do before somebody attacks me. "They can't pull me out, Zach. I have to finish this."

"I know, baby. I told the Director that. He said you can stay on the mission if you really want to, but to tell you that he would prefer it if you came home."

I glare at the ground. "Tell him he can go to hell."

Zach laughs. "Cam, he might like you, but I don't think he'll let you get away with saying that to him."

"I've said it before."

"And you got a week of desk work because a doctor filed a report that your knee was out of commission."

"I know."

"Cammie?" Zach says after a long silence.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

"I'm always careful, Zach."

"I know, but right now you're also angry."

"I could hear their screams, Zach. But I couldn't help them. I just stood in the shadows and listened to them die."

"I don't want you to die too."

"I won't."

Zach sighs. "I love you, Cammie."

"I love you too."

"Hurry home, okay?"

"Okay."

That line goes dead and I force myself to my feet. "I'm sorry," I whisper to the ghosts of the people who lived here. "I am so sorry that you died because of me." I turn on my heel and walk away, out of the town and through the darkness that is beginning to fall.

* * *

**So what do you think? Like it? Hate it?**

**As promised, updating schedule. I apologize, but it will probably be pretty chaotic. From July 17th to August 5th, I will be in Kenya doing volunteer work with Me to We. I will be in the Maasai Mara region which is largely tribal land, so I will not be able to update as I will not have access to either electricity or internet for the time I am there. However, beyond that I will do my best to maintain a weekly updating regime. That said, I will be spending quite a bit of time at my cottage (which has no internet access) and camping (during which I will have internet access only sometimes). Once school starts up again in September though, I will be able to update weekly with relative consistency. Stick with me through the summer though. I'll do my best.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Month Three:_

_Cammie,_

_ Hey Gallagher Girl. How are you? I can't believe it's already been three months since I saw you last. I hate being away from you for so long. I've asked Grant and Bex to make sure you get these letters at the times I've written on the envelopes. I would tell you where I am but the Director would likely kill me. Also, he hasn't told me where I'm going, so I can't actually say. All he told me was that this mission has an estimated 60% survival rate and that if I didn't go, people I love would end up dead. But you knew that._

_ You see, Cam, I wasn't actually going to tell you that at first. I had to though. I can't keep things from you. I wish I could have stayed at home with you, but I know I couldn't have. Whatever it is I'm doing right now is too important. At least it had better be, because I miss you._

_ Have you been on any missions since I left? How's your mom? Is Joe doing okay without me? I know how hard it is for him to function when I'm not around (read that like I'm smirking at you, Gallagher Girl). Are the girls doing well? I know that Bex wasn't actually home when I left. Grant told me something about a mission in Peru, but he wasn't totally sure himself. I think Macey was in Paris, but I'm pretty sure she was just shopping. I did say bye to Liz though. It's pretty easy to track her down when she's teaching at Gallagher._

_ Gallagher Girl, try not to get to upset with the Director, okay? I know you've probably already been up to his office a bunch of times to try and weasel information about me out of him, but in all likelihood it hasn't worked out too well for you. Take a deep breath. He's just trying to keep us both safe. I'll do my best to write to you from wherever I am if it is safe enough. _

_Hug Joe for me, okay baby?_

_I love you, _

_Zach_

* * *

Zach,

You're right. Trying to get information out of the Director hasn't been going very well for me. I've only yelled at him twice though. (I might have punched a hole through his wall once, but I was really angry.) I know he's just trying to keep us safe, but it doesn't make this any easier. Honestly, I don't think he knows very much himself.

I'm doing alright though. I spent two weeks this month on protection detail for the President's kids. Somebody tried to kill them four times the first week. I got them though, and I kept the kids alive and safe. Last week, I joined Bex in Peru. We finished off her mission together and then came home. I should be leaving again soon unless some arms dealers decide to quit their life of crime.

I've decided that I will write you responses to your letter so that when you get back, you will have a record of everything that has happened in your absence. I would also like to point out that it was a total surprise when Grant showed up at our house to give this to me.

Macey is back from Paris. She was shopping like you said and is pretty upset that you left without saying goodbye. Liz is in Afghanistan right now, working with some military medical scientists to develop a cure for a particularly nasty sickness that has been killing soldiers there. Of course that is top secret, so don't tell anyone. Bex and Grant are at their flat in England right now. Both have a one month leave, so they're relaxing. Mom is doing okay. She has taken over Joe's Covert Ops class for the time being because he is on a mission somewhere. We don't know where. We don't know for how long. Mom misses him, not that she'd admit that. Last time I saw the Director, he told me Joe was fine. That's something at least. It's more than he's been able to tell me about you.

The stupid thing about this is that we've both been on longer missions than this. Maybe it's different this time because of the survival rate you've been given, or the fact that I know nothing about what you're doing. I don't know. What I do know is that this is so much harder than usual. I miss you Zach. I miss you a lot. Come back to me, okay?

Lots of love,

Cammie

* * *

_Chameleon,_

_Hi, darling. I'm sitting in a quaint little cafe in the Bahamas as I write this. You would laugh if you could see what I'm wearing. I look a bit like the island has thrown up on me. I'm on a vacation with my girlfriend right now (don't worry, you don't need to be jealous). Her name (at least in these letters) is Big Nose. She looks nothing like you._

_I can't tell you anything else about what I am doing, or where I have been. I would, but then you wouldn't be safe. _

_The coffee here is superb. You would probably hate the cafe though because you can't really see what is happening outside of it. Also, there are only two points of exit. For right now though, that works to my advantage. If I cannot see out, other people cannot see in._

_This is supposed to be a vacation after all. _

_Don't worry about me compromising my cover by writing this. Big Nose is asleep in our hotel room and I will mail this the second I am finished writing it. Plus the ink is of the invisible variety that Bookworm makes, so only you will be able to figure out how to read it. In fact, one of the men who works here just looked at me like I was crazy because he was topping off my coffee and happened to notice that I am staring at a blank piece of paper. I had to explain to him that I my girlfriend wants me to journal about our trip, but that I don't really know what to write. He laughed and told me to talk about the beaches and how beautiful her hair looks in the island sunlight. her hair might look nice, but Chameleon, Big Nose's face ruins the effect._

_Unfortunately I just talked myself into having to write a journal about this trip. That's okay though. BigNose has actually requested I write one._

_It has been five months since I saw you last. (Four months of dating Big Nose. If you ask me, I think it is a bit too early on in the relationship to start inviting your boyfriend to spend a week with you in the Bahamas. Especially when you know his bosses get angry when her misses work.) Our record is thirteen months though, so I guess that isn't a big deal. Still. I miss you, my love. _

_How are you? How is everyone else? How are your mom and Wise Guy? _

_I love you,_

_Shadow_

* * *

Zach,

I just got your letter from the Bahama's. Big Nose, huh? I have to say, I am a little bit jealous. A one week island vacation and a hotel room. What I wouldn't give for that with you.

You're right, the cafe seems like a place I would hate, but I feel like I probably would laugh at your outfit. (I'm thinking swim suit and a short sleeve button up that you haven't yet buttoned up. Oh... flipflops and sunglasses!)

Remember that mission we did in the Bahamas where our cover was that we were honeymooning newlyweds? The look on that maid's face when she walked in and found us both sleeping on the bed head to toe in black with our muddy combat boots on the white comforter was priceless. They made us pay to have it dry cleaned. Personally I think that the Director's face when we filed the dry cleaning bill as a mission expense was better than the maid's face when she found us like that.

Joe and my mom are good I think. Joe got back from his mission two months ago, according to the Director. I haven't seen them yet though. Just after I got your first letter I left for that mission involving the arms dealers. I just got back this afternoon. Or yesterday afternoon? I'm not sure. It's really late. Well, early I guess. So yeah, it was yesterday afternoon. I was stuck in debrief until a few hours ago, and then I came home and unpacked. I just got your letter now, because I went to get the mail. I couldn't sleep.

Everyone else is good as far as I know. Liz is still in Afghanistan, but she should be back next week. Macey is off somewhere in Italy dealing with something need-to-know. Bex and Grant are on a leave of absence (on call though, of course), so they're in England visiting Bex's parents. My guess is that they are doing some odd jobs for MI6 at the same time though, because there is no way those two can go a whole month without some kind of action.

I haven't seen you in six months now. Hurry home.

I love you,

Cammie

* * *

_Month Six:_

_Cammie,_

_It's been a while, darling. Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, I know I miss you more than anything._

_Is Abby back yet? I talked to her before I left over a secure channel that the Director got me on. I told him I wouldn't go on the mission without speaking to her, so he pulled some strings. She was supposed to arrive home six months after I left, and when she does she will have a surprise for you ready and waiting. She can't give it to you unless you give her the password though. I decided to be overly mundane and went with PASSWORD as the password, so you can't forget it. Not that I'm insinuating you would, however that time in Kabul where we had to pull off a diamond heist might beg to differ. Anyways, if Abby is back give her a call. If she isn't, give her a call when she is._

_I know that by now you have probably considered hog-tying the Director to a chair and beating him until he told you where I am. I know that after that failed to turn out positively in your mind, you probably considered the same scenario but with truth serum instead of the whole old fashioned beating thing. Please tell me somebody talked you out of it? Gallagher Girl, the Director is only protecting you. I have no doubt you've been in his office once a week every week you've been able for the past six months. Cut him some slack. He cares about you, Cam._

_How is everyone?_

_Enjoy your gift, Gallagher Girl. I'm sure you are going to pretty surprised by it, but Abby and Macey said they would help. Be patient and let them, I know how endearingly independent and bull headed you can be. You'll love my gift once you get over the initial shock. Think of it as a mini-me, handpicked by me. We even share personality traits._

_Hug Joe for me again, okay? Next to you, I probably miss him the most._

_Also, my next preplanned letter won't come until month twelve. That is in the hopes that I'll be home soon and you won't need another. After that they'll come every year, once a year until I am home. Hopefully we won't need more of them after this, though._

_I love you,_

_Zach_

* * *

Zach,

I love you too, but a puppy? An eight month old, very cute, chocolate labrador? I see what you mean about the personality traits. Devious, over confident, and child like? I'd say you both fit the bill. I mentioned he was cute though, right? I guess that's the difference.

I love him though, Zach. I got Mom to agree to let him stay with her and Joe at Gallagher while I am on mission, so I don't have to worry about finding a dog sitter. I currently have two months leave, so Bond and I have been going to some of the CIA dog training courses. By the end of next month, he is going to be the best trained dog in Virginia. The Director actually asked if he could borrow Bond for a bug search of headquarters yesterday. Apparently somebody was actually brazen enough to tap our phones. Well, somebody other than Uncle Sam, that is.

Bond and I have been getting along really well. When you get back your pillow will probably smell a lot like dog though. Also, Abby says to tell you that she is never being a part of one of you surprise-Cammie-schemes again. Apparently last time it cost her one of her favourite knives and this time it cost her a rug Townsend just brought back from a mission for their apartment. She also mentioned that he will be billing us for the rug. Something about it being a gift from some royal family? I don't know, I was too distracted by Bond and his cuteness.

Everyone is good. Liz is still in Afghanistan, but she sent me a postcard about how tired she is of the military base she is on. She also said that if her mission is extended again after this time, she will book a flight and come home as a deserter. Grant and Bex finally caught a break and were assigned a two person mission. I'm not sure under what circumstances or where, but I know they are posing as a very wealthy couple with a penchant for illegal weapons sales. Macey is still doing her need-to-know thing somewhere in Italy. Mom and Joe are at the school right now, but I'm pretty sure they're getting ready for something. What? I don't know.

Some things never change I guess, right?

Be safe, Zach. I like you in one piece, not multiple.

I love you,

Cammie

P.S. Joe says hi, and thanks for the hug. He also said, and I quote, "He misses me the most next to you? And what's with the 'probably'? He was my best man at the wedding. He better be missing me like hell, otherwise I'm making him pay for the tux I bought him." So basically, Joe misses you too. Also, thanks for the heads up about the letters. You... always the optimist with the backup plan of the pessimist. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Yeah?

* * *

_Month Twelve:_

_Cammie,_

_First things first: I love you. I don't know where it is I am right now, but I know that. I will always love you. Cam, this letter is going to be short. I don't know what I can say to you other than that I love you, and that I miss you. Tell everyone else that I miss them too, alright?_

_How did you like my surprise? _

_This year has been a long one for both of us, I am sure. I hope I'll be back to you soon._

_I love you, Gallagher Girl._

_Love,_

_Zach_

* * *

Zach,

I love you too.

Liz is back from Afghanistan and teaching at Gallagher again. Mom and Joe are somewhere in the Middle East doing something, but the Director assures me they are safe. He has stopped telling me that about you. Last time I was in his office he looked at me and said, "Cammie, your husband is fine. He'll be fine." Not exactly reassuring. God, Zach, I hope he is right.

Macey and Preston finally decided to get engaged. The wedding is in three months. Bex is pregnant. She is two months along. Macey has already started designing her a custom bridesmaid dress.

I wish you were here.

Bond is getting big. He still sleeps on our bed, so I'm really sorry about your pillow.

I spent a few months in France tracking down a terrorist ring that was hiding there. Apparently croissants and cheese are good incentive when picking a country for your entire organization to go to ground in. I ended up getting them, but not before I had to go scuba diving. I'll tell you all about it when you get home.

I miss you so much Zach.

I love you,

Cammie

* * *

Zach,

Bex had the baby! He looks just like her, but with Grant's eyes. They're so happy. They've asked us to be the Godparents. I figured that you would love that, so I said yes on your behalf. Your Godson's name is Jacob. Bex just left last week on her first mission after his birth, and she left Jacob at home with Grant. He was just called out this morning on an emergency mission, despite his protests. I'm sitting on our bed with Bond while a three month old baby boy sleeps in the spare bedroom. I have a baby monitor beside me, Zach.

The spare room looks a bit like a nursery right now. It has a crib and a changing table, and I put one of our old rugs in it. You know the one: it has all of the blue and yellow polka dots. I think it was a wedding gift, but I'm not sure. We never used it though. We never had a reason to. It works perfectly in a nursery though.

This makes me miss you so much more, Zach. I know you have mixed feelings about being a father, but I think you would love this. I have a few weeks leave right now because of the length of my last mission. This time I was in Jerusalem. I'm not really sure why, I was just gathering intel on something. I'm not sure what. It took just over four months though. I got back three days before Jacob was born.

I put a picture of Jacob in the envelope, so I hope you opened it like a normal person instead of tearing at it.

I love you Zach.

Love,

Cammie

* * *

_Month 24:_

_Cammie,_

_I'm so sorry, baby. I should be home. I wish I was home. I will be though. I promise, I will be. How is the dog? I was going to say puppy, but he isn't a puppy anymore, is he? _

_How are you?_

_How are the girls?_

_How are your mom and Joe? Tell Joe I love him for me, please. _

_Is Grant doing well?_

_I miss you Cammie._

_I love you so much._

_Love,_

_Zach_

* * *

Zach,

The girls, Grant, Mom, Joe, and I are all good.

Macey and Preston got married before Jacob was born. The wedding was beautiful. Macey bought you a tux in case you got home in time. You didn't, obviously. The ceremony was in the gardens at Gallagher, right where Mom and Joe got married. Then the reception was in the great hall.

Of course Macey had the whole thing scheduled down to the second, and it was quite possibly the most organized wedding I have ever seen. Macey's dress was beautiful, and the bridesmaid dresses she chose for us where all equally as beautiful. I have to say the whole thing was perfect. Simple elegance. It reminded me of our wedding.

Bond is definitely not a puppy anymore. Yesterday, while I was unpacking some groceries, he ate half a pot roast. He loves Gallagher though, and the students love him.

I'm not sure where Liz is right now, but I have a hunch that she is still in the States. The Director said she is totally safe, so that is something. I think she might be developing weapons for our military.

The last mission I went on was actually in the military. They put me into a special forces unit for a few months to find a mole they suspected was in the unit. They were right. He was selling information to the highest bidder, as well as spying for the Russians. I got him though.

Jacob is growing fast. He is so cute. You would love him. I'm sure you will , when you get back.

I miss you, Zach. Please come home.

I love you,

Cammie

* * *

_Chameleon,_

_I don't know when I'll be back. I don't know if I'll be back. Things here have taken a bad turn. I can't really tell you anything more than that. _

_Chameleon, I am so sorry. We always knew that our lives would be this way, but you deserve better. You deserve so much better than this. _

_I am going to have to run. For the sake of my cover, and yours, I am going to have to run._

_It has almost been three years, baby. If you had asked me where I thought we'd be by now three years ago, my answer would have been this: Chameleon, I would have told you that we would be together. Maybe we'd have a little baby boy or girl who would look like both of us because that baby would have been both of us. I would have said that we'd own a minivan and be trying to balance parenting against spying. I would have told you we would be safe (as safe as a spy can be), and that we would be happy. I would have told you that I would have just finished putting up baby gates all around the house because our little baby was learning to walk. I would have told you we would have a life together. The life we've always wanted. Chameleon, I wish I could give it to you._

_Instead, I will run. I will keep our covers intact. I will try to stay alive._

_Any tips?_

_It wasn't supposed to be this way, Chameleon. God, I wish it wasn't. I can't change it though. You can't either, honey, so don't beat yourself up._

_I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could kiss you, and hold you. I wish I could hear your laugh. See your smile. _

_I wish I could tell you in will all be okay. I can't though. We would both know I am lying._

_I hope this isn't goodbye, Chameleon. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure it isn't goodbye. If it is though, I need you to know that I love you. _

_To the moon and back, Chameleon. Always._

_I love you so much. _

_I am sorry._

_Love,_

_Shadow_

* * *

Zach,

I play a game in my head now. I try to picture what you would say to the little things that happen every day, or how you would react when I'm on a mission if you were me. On the nights when I can't sleep, I look through our old pictures and let myself replay all of the moments I have in my brain of when we were together. I don't want to forget what you sound like, or how your lips feel against mine, or how your arms can ward off the worst nightmares. Bond tries, but he isn't you.

Zach, this isn't goodbye. It can't be.

I know you'll come home to me. I don't know how I can keep going without you. You have to come home, Zach. There is a little boy waiting for you here. He just turned one. I don't want to have to tell Jacob about the man he calls Uncy Zach. I don't know if I can. I need you to be here so he knows.

Zach, be careful. Running is hard. You asked me for advice? Well, here it is: Don't stop. Always move, always stay one step ahead. Do whatever it takes. You have the skills, use them and don't feel badly about it. If you need to abandon your cover, do it. Don't trust anyone, Zach. Don't get caught.

Come back to me.

I love you.

Love,

Cammie

* * *

Zach,

The Director knocked on our door today. It has been 38 months. He told me you have been dark for four months, and that you have been declared MIA.

Grant delivered one of your letters with Jacob two months ago. I couldn't open it. I am not opening another one of the letters until you are home. I can't.

I love you, Zach. Please be okay.

Love,

Cammie

* * *

Zach,

I went to Grandma Morgan's funeral today. She died five days ago after spending two weeks in the hospital post stroke. I wish you were here. You've always shared my pain and now I am feeling the full weight of it for the first time in a long time.

Come home to me soon, okay?

I love you so much.

Be safe, Zach.

Love,

Cammie

* * *

Zach,

It has been four years.

Jacob is two now.

You haven't had contact with anybody at the CIA for almost a year. Yesterday while I was at Langley, the Director asked me about putting a headstone up for you in the CIA memorial graveyard.

I said no.

I'm not going to believe your dead until I see your body.

Bond is really big now. He still sleeps with his head on your pillow.

Mom and Joe are somewhere in Nicaragua. Macey is pregnant with twins, and Liz is off in Rome helping with a mission. Of course she isn't in the field, but she is the one running the thing. Remember the last time we were in Rome? Bex is in Oxford, and Grant is in Germany. I am filling in for the P&amp;E teacher at Gallagher, who is in Paris. I have Jacob with me for until either Bex or Grant get back.

I love you Zach.

I wish you were here.

Love,

Cammie

* * *

Zach,

This morning a man I almost didn't recognize showed up on our doorstep. He was you, but looked older and with a beard. He looked exhausted, until he smiled. When he smiled I knew it would be okay.

Zach, it has been four years, five months, and seventeen days, but when you smiled it was like I saw you yesterday.

You dropped your duffel bag on the floor and pulled me into your arms, and I tried to convince myself that you were real. You see, Zach, I've imagined you walking into our house so many times over the past few years that I wasn't sure if you were just in my mind.

You held me while I cried though, and kissed away my tears, and told me that it would be okay now.

I've wanted you to say that for so long.

We sat and talked until the Director knocked on our door, and you went to see who it was. You went and opened our front door, Zach. You.

The Director had come by to see me because he wanted to make sure I was holding up okay. He has been dropping by about once a week lately, if I'm not on a mission. To say he was surprised to see you was a bit of an understatement. Apparently you skipped the official channels, debrief, and legal travel arrangements because the CIA had no idea you were back, let alone alive.

The Director ended up calling a unit and you were debriefed in the kitchen.

It is 12:00pm now, and he unit got to our house at 6:00pm yesterday night. Apparently four and a half years takes a long time to unload, even when most of it is covered by your files. The unit said that you'll need to go into Langley tomorrow for the rest of your debrief because they were only at year two, month six when the Director finally told everyone that we could continue your debrief at another time.

You are in the shower now (hopefully shaving off your beard). Bond is sitting outside the bathroom door, whining and staring at it. I think he is worried you are never going to come out. Honestly, I'm kind of with him.

We have a lot of catching up to do, Zach.

Right now though, I am just glad you're home safe and sound.

I love you.

Thank-you for coming back to me.

Love,

Cammie

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think? Leave me a comment to let me know, or PM me. I hope you liked it. **


	3. Chapter 3

I trace patterns on Zach's back as we lie tangled together in his sheets, connecting the dotted freckles scattered across it. He flips himself over so that he is lying on his back and stares up at me, smirking.

"What?" I ask him.

"You're beautiful."

I laugh. I can't help myself. I'm still too skinny after the summer's activities, and my skin is crisscrossed with jagged scars from torture I never want to remember fully. I pull his t-shirt (which I retrieved from the floor in the middle of the night because of the cold) over my head and let it fall onto the bed. "No, I'm not," I tell him, frowning down at my skin.

He lifts himself onto his elbows so that he can kiss me, and then flips us so that I am trapped between him and the mattress. "Yes, you are." He trails kisses from my collar bone to my stomach, following the path of one particularly large and jagged scar. "You are beautiful," he whispers.

I believe him. Despite myself, I believe him.

"Thank-you," I whisper.

"For what?" he asks, sounding confused.

"For being here. For always being here."

He smiles, kisses me. "I will always be here," he says.

I laugh against his lips, reveling in the feeling of his weight on me. We fit together perfectly… like we were made for each other. Our kiss tumbles into something deep, and full of need. I am a drought dry field and he is the spark.

He pulls back, breaking the spell. "We can't. Breakfast starts in five minutes."

I groan and turn my head to the side so I can look at the clock on the bedside table. 7:55. "Damn it," I mutter. I smile at him. "We could always miss breakfast."

Zach grins down at me, his weight still resting on his forearms instead of me. "We could," he says, "but then your mom or Joe would come looking for us and I think we'd have a hard time coming up with an appropriate excuse for this. " He gestures to his room with one big sweeping motion of his hand.

Our clothes are littered across the floor and my pink lace bra is hanging from his lamp. There is what used to be an alphabetically stacked pile of books scattered next to Zach's jeans, and then there is the obvious problem of us lying naked in his twisted, sweaty sheets.

"Okay," I admit, "this would be slightly difficult to explain in a way my mom wouldn't kill us for." Still, that doesn't mean I want to go up to breakfast.

Zach kisses me with a laugh and rolls out of the bed. I flip onto my side and watch him with appreciation as he crosses his room and opens his closet doors. He tosses me a bag I keep in there for moments like this, and then grabs himself a clean uniform. He pulls it on.

I sigh and get out of the bed, grabbing my bra from its perch on the lamp and putting it on. I open the bag Zach tossed me, sliding on a pair of clean underwear and my uniform. As an afterthought, I pull deodorant out of my bag. A shower would be ideal, but this will have to do for now.

"Do you know where my shoes are?" I ask Zach.

"Beside the door," he answers.

I slide them on and throw my hair into a ponytail. "Presentable?" I ask Zach.

"Perfect," he tells me. "How about me?" He strikes a silly pose for my benefit.

I grin, "Beyond perfect."

Zach smiles wolfishly as he walks up to me, crowding me back against his door. "We should probably go," he says.

I nod, "Mhm," I manage, totally distracted by his closeness.

Zach kisses me deeply, sweetly, darkly. I kiss him back matching his passion. My knees feel weak and I want nothing more than to fall back into his bed with him, but I force myself to pull away. "Breakfast," I remind him.

"Breakfast," he repeats.

I step away from the door and smooth my hair back into place. Zach swings the door open and offers me his hand. Together we make our way towards the dining hall. It is 8:10. We're late. Totally worth it.

* * *

Zach and I slip into the dining hall quietly, trying not to be noticed. We join the line at the buffet table, and Zach loads my plate with waffles, blueberries, and more whipped cream than one person could possibly need. I grin at him as he passes the plate to me and puts four pancakes onto his own. We slide into our normal spots on at one of long tables that dominate the room.

"Cameron, Zachary, where exactly were you last night?" Bex asks us as we sit down.

"Um... We were enjoying each others company?" I meant that to be a statement, but it ends up sounding like a question.

"Yes, and you were doing that how exactly?" Macey asks, raising an eyebrow.

"We were talking in the barn, and fell asleep," Zach says with a shrug.

It isn't really a total lie. We did start our night out talking in the P&amp;E barn. We went in there to practice some new techniques we learned last week. Well , kind of new. Zach and I both knew the moves already, but we figured a little bit of extra practice couldn't hurt. Plus, it was a Saturday night and the barn was basically empty because Tina was hosting a whole school movie night in our common room.

"Uh huh," Bex, Macey, and Liz all chime together.

I shake my head at them. "Eat your breakfast," I say.

"Are you sure you don't want our food?" Macey asks innocently. "You and Zach are the ones with the appetites."

I glare at her.

"I just mean that after all that extra practice in the P&amp;E barn you must be hungry," she hurries to add.

"Uh huh," it is now Zach and my turn to chime.

Macey just laughs. "Eat your breakfast," she tells us.

**A/N: Hey guys. Hope you enjoyed that. Just a bit of Zammie fluff this time. Remember to R&amp;R.**


	4. Chapter 4

"I think I'll be brave

Starting with you

But I'll fall away if you tell me to

I'd rather be wrong

Then hope that I'm right

'Cause I can't go on with this all inside."

Brave

Tawgs Salter

I hold him in my arms as his shoulders shake and marvel at the impossibility of this whole situation. Surrounded by the memory of his mother's blood spilled in a building he called home, and the ashes of that same place—a place we all thought was invincible—he has finally broken.

Tears slide down his cheeks and into the dirt while his fingers' clutch at my clothing, desperate for an anchor. And all I do is hold onto him, unable to take away his pain.

Usually I'm the one who kneels in the dirt, needing something to hold my weight up. I've never seen him having to use it as his crutch. I've never seen him hurt this much. I've never seen tears slide down his cheeks before—never seen his shoulders shake with heart wrenching sobs. All I can do is hold him on the dirt and offer my body to share some of the weight pressing against his.

The grief of this day is palpable in the forest air that surrounds us. The memory is too. I can see her standing in the fire. I hear it crackling as it burns through beams older than either of us. I can taste the ashes that fell into my mouth as we ran. I can still hear the muffled cries of the girls standing around their home, watching it burn into nothingness. I can still feel the utter hopelessness that I know so well: The one that comes when the last thing that was giving you strength crumbles.

I also know that when that final thing crumbles, you inevitably find something else to give you support. For me, that thing is Zach.

I suddenly remember when I asked him where he went when he was looking for me. He told me that he went crazy. He knows that feeling of hopelessness too. Maybe he is more familiar with it than I am. All I know is that it has knocked on his door as well as mine. Today, he must have finally let it in.

"How can I help you?" I whisper into his hair. "What do you want me to do?"

It takes a long moment before he answers me. "Make me forget," he says.

I tilt his chin up and kiss him gently. "I can't," I tell him quietly. "I wish I could, Zach, but I can't."

He stares at me, tears rolling down his already wet cheeks. "Please?" he asks, his voice as quiet as I've ever heard it. "Please, Cammie. Make it stop."

I blink rapidly to stop myself from crying. Zach is the last person on this planet that I want to see in pain. Ever. "Come with me," I say, taking his hand in mine and pulling him to his feet. He doesn't respond, but he follows me as I lead him in the direction of the forest.

The grass we walk over is trampled and marked with the footprints of hurried spies too preoccupied to care. Hours ago, my mother lead the entire student body of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women along the path we walk now. The seventh graders were panicked, the seniors stood straight and rigid, the freshmen whispered about extra credit and whether or not this might be a drill, the staff dispersed themselves along the edges of the group in a rudimentary security perimeter. My mother and Joe walked at the head of our somber parade, leading us to somewhere that we didn't yet need to know the location of. Joe's arm was wrapped around Mom's waist, and my mother—who never leans on anybody or anything—was leaning on him. Bex, Liz, Macey, Zach, and I walked just behind them, defeated and angry, our backs as straight and rigid as every other senior's while we tried our best to hold ourselves together until we could fall apart without the prying eyes of every person around us looking.

Zach and I don't speak now, just as we didn't speak hours before as we walked over this grass. The difference is that we are no longer standing up as straight as we were earlier. Now we stagger across the trampled grass, me holding Zach's hand, Zach stumbling along a few steps behind me. He let's me lead him, and I allow him to be led.

We walk for a long time, weaving between the ever increasing number of trees around us as the forest thickens. The ground slopes upwards and the air begins to get colder, but we keep walking. The sun is setting by the time we reach the place I have been leading us to. The sounds of rushing water, which have been growing gradually louder the farther we have walked, are overpowering here. Here is a cave in the side of a towering boulder covered hill. Inside the cave, a waterfall feeds a pool of water that runs out of one of the caves walls' to form an everflowing stream. I used to come here a lot. After I first returned to Gallagher, when the music still came for me, I would sneak out of the school and spend whole days here. The sound of the waterfall would drown out the sound of the music. Here, I could be nobody and everybody. My pain, my past, my suffering and the suffering I had caused did not exist here.

Zach and I stand in the entrance to the cave for a moment. Zach is completely still, his mouth open slightly as he stares at the waterfall.

"This place is beautiful," he breathes.

That is the other reason I came here. When my world was so dark, when all I could see was the red of the blood I have spilled and the dark of the night I was perpetually living in, this place was beautiful. When I felt like the world was hopeless, this place became my hope.

"I know," I respond. I tug his hand, pulling him towards a crevice in the wall to our left. We sit in it together. "Let it in, Zach. Let it in and then try to move forward."

He does. In the fading daylight, as the water rushes, he does.


End file.
